Encounters
by MaestroOfVillainy
Summary: "After burning any bit of innocence that Nick might have had like so much parchment, the elder vampire had the gall to seek his own redemption." A series of Hal/Cutler ficlets. Unbeta'd.
1. First Impressions

When Nick Cutler found himself locked inside a cell with Mr. York, he tried his best to convince himself not to panic (This was a reasonable man, he told himself. Guilty of nothing more than gambling and dog fighting. Surely not inclined to attack solicitors left and right). He discovered that this was to be quite difficult, however, when the man opposite him lunged forward, a strong hand wrapping around the Cutler's vulnerable neck and eventually settling with a firm press against his shoulders.

Warm breath ghosted across his face and he averted his eyes, lashes lowered and breath uncomfortably constricted by the weight leaning against him. He sputtered and it felt as if all will had left him as the other man lowered his lips to his exposed neck and-

No, surely not. Not possible. But the prick was too painful for Cutler to dismiss as an ordinary bite, especially not as an impossibly cold, burning sensation spread across his frame. He was sure he screamed inelegantly. Shivers turned to shakes that rattled his bones and he found himself praying. Shark that he was, he still had faith, and God knows he needed it then.

The creature was drinking his blood and taking no great strides to hide it. It groaned and he could feel its lips twitch with every great pull of liquid. Within minutes, Cutler found his vision invaded by spots and his legs weakening. He clung to his attacker despite the nausea that such an action caused him, doing his best to steady himself. He saw the monster pull away, eyes black and teeth sharp, and tear one of the little blue veins from its wrist open. Cutler soon felt the arm being pressed to his lips and drank. It smelt of the tea that his wife often made for him after he came home from work and tasted like honey and roses.

Cutler hoped, silently, that he'd live to see her again.


	2. Return

Upon seeing what remained of his wife, Nick Cutler didn't know what to make of himself. Long after the others had left him, he remained in that damned basement, practically soaking in self pity and unshed tears. He knelt for what seemed like hours, eventually starting as a pair of hands crept around his midsection.

"You didn't need her."

"Piss off. I never want to see you again."

Hal held him tighter, "You just don't see it. She made you weak. I didn't turn you so you could cling to your sad little life and play human. You were meant for so much more."

"Those damn empty words again: all romance and no substance. How many men and women have you swayed like that? It's sick. It's sick and I'm not falling for it again. Get off of me." Cutler could feel himself shaking with fear. Disgusting.

He pushed against the arms holding him but they didn't yield. In fact, his efforts had the opposite effect. Hal flipped him around and dragged him up by the collar, pinning him to the wall.

"Now that is just rude," he hisses, all of the playful pretense from before dissipating with his words, "you should really show me more respect unless you'd like to be punished further. It'd do you well to remember your place."

"And exactly what place would that be? A lawyer? A servant? A slave? I really wish you'd decide, because all of this hopping about is taking a toll and I'm tired of being indebted without reason or purpose."

"You'll be whatever I want you to be," Hal said, and though his words were clipped tight and straightforward, Cutler could feel an undercurrent to them that made him distinctly uncomfortable. It left a chilling frisson in the air that caused him to visibly cringe.

"Are you… you're not scared of me, surely?" Hal continued, chuckling and running a hand up to stroke Cutler's cheek in a way that was deceptively gentle. Cutler jerked his face to the side, only to be righted with a strong backhand that left borrowed blood bubbling from his lips.

"No," he sputtered, "no, I'm not. I've no reason to be. After all, why would you go to all of this effort to sway me if you would kill me so easily? Your time is too valuable for that."

Hal laughed, "Well, you're certainly not wrong. I like you enough, despite your apparent aversion to dirtywork. But it's no matter. I'm sure I can find tasks more… suited to your skillset."

—-

Nearly fifty years later, when Cutler saw his maker again, gone was the smooth, threatening body language that the man used to wear. Hal had been degraded into something stiff and weak and brittle. Alternate meanings no longer lurked behind his words. In fact, his words didn't have much weight at all anymore. They were ghostly pale and nothing more than a sad echo of the pillar of strength that he used to be.

It wasn't that Cutler felt betrayed, exactly. Though he'd never gotten past the death of his wife at Hal's hands (after all, how would one even begin to do such a thing?), he didn't blame the man anymore. Hal had only been doing what was necessary to sway the solicitor, no matter how deceptive and cruel his methods were.

No. What really made Cutler sick was the regression. The fact that Hal chose to and was even capable of it. After burning any bit of innocence that Nick might have had like so much parchment, the elder vampire had the gall to seek his own redemption.

It was infuriating, how useless his old master had become. How much he reminded Cutler of himself, so many years ago.

All Hal needed was to be shown. To be guided. Cutler promised himself that he'd bring the old Hal back, if only to prove to him what a great vampire he'd become.

What a monster he'd become.


End file.
